


The Artist & The Boy

by newt0nesque



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Beast!Gerard Way, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fantasy, Frank’s a nerd in this, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild stockholm?, Most everyone are literally objects lmao, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peculiar!Frank Iero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt0nesque/pseuds/newt0nesque
Summary: A spin on your typical Beauty and the Beast story (2017).Gerard is a cursed prince, doomed to remain so forever unless he can earn the love of another.Frank is a poor village boy with an uncanny liking for books.Can he be the key to relieving the prince of his monstrous form before it is too late?





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time, and hopefully I can do it justice. 
> 
> In this prologue please note I did utilize a lot of the script from the film- and included my own alterations/personal details. 
> 
> It is short but hopefully I’ll get a first chapter out soon if this goes well!  
> Enjoy.
> 
> -ian

In the process of rewriting due to some copyright issues! It’ll be out within the next week. Apologies for the confusion, you can still read on without this if you know the basic Beauty & the Beast story.

Thank you,

-Ian


	2. Little Town.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Frank, your bookworm with a few peculiarities that don’t sit well with the common village folk.

 

The village was old, traditional, provincial, and, to Frank, absolutely _boring_.

 

He’d grown up here, raised by his father alone. His only knowledge prior to this place was that they had left Venice when he was only an infant, his mother succumbing to the Plague which spread rapidly through the city.

 

People had been dropping like insects left and right, and Linda did not wish that fate on her newborn son.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Go,” she implored, squeezing her husband’s trembling hand with her own, “before it takes him too.”_

_She had deteriorated so much in a matter of days. Her fingers like bones, her body frail, and skin as white and sunken as death itself._

_She begged for Frank to leave sooner, though he was stubborn as always, grasping for some way to aide her._

_Only when the doctor darkened their doorway, his face concealed by the ominous, telltale mask, did Frank know he had no other choice._

_“You must leave, **now**.” The doctor barked, voice muffled behind the long beak._

_Beyond him in the cobbled street were the wails of mourning families, bodies being carried out by the dozens and loaded onto full carriages. Their fate would lie in a fire somewhere far from the city, in attempts to contain the sickness. Quarantines had been tried and failed. Europe was in turmoil and the death toll continued to rise by the minute._

_Frank didn’t need to see anymore, tears pricking at his eyes as he hurried with his single bag, and scooping a crying Frank up in his other arm._

_Once out of the house, in a carriage leaving the city behind, did it begin to dawn on the young man. He was now with only his son to look after._

 

_His wife would be dead by morning._

 

* * *

 

 

“Won’t you tell me anything more about her?” Frank prompted that morning, pulling his nose out of his book to study his father, who tinkered away at his latest creation: a beautiful music box with golden trim, shaped like a windmill that played the most beautiful tune.

A lullaby his mother loved, apparently. 

 

“She was…” He began, taking a moment to sit back and remove his glasses, rubbing his nose thoughtfully, “fearless. One of the most determined women I had ever known.” His eyes settled on Frank across the table, a smile pulling at his lips.

 

“I see a lot of her in you, you know.”

 

Frank couldn’t help a little scoff at the words, closing his book and leaning on his elbows. “I doubt anybody thought my mother to be odd.”

 

“My son, odd? Where on earth did you get an idea like that?”

 

The young boy sighed, rising from the table to gather their dishes from breakfast and bring them to the basin nearby to wash.

 

“I’m just not sure I fit in well here, Papa.”

 

“Well, my boy. If all goes well, we will have a new life ahead of us. A clean slate, I promise.” Frank gave his son a fond look, which he briefly returned as he went about his chore.

 

“Can I bring you anything from the market?” He prompted then, rising from his chair with a low groan and stretching his back.

 

Frank visibly perked up at the mention, a true smile touching his face.

 

“A rose.” He replied. “A red one this time.”

 

His father chuckled, reaching for his coat where it hung from a hook on the wall.

 

“You always ask for a rose.”

 

“And you always bring it.”

 

“That I do. Take care while I’m gone, you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir. I put new shoes on Barrow this morning. Have safe travels, Papa.”

 

Frank moved to rub his son’s arms and give him a hug shortly after, not minding the soapy water still covering Frank’s hands and arms getting on his shirt and dampening it slightly.

 

“Always, my boy.”

 

With that, his father left and the house was quiet again. A humble place, with a small chicken coop outside, and a meager garden too. Frank loved it in its entirety.

 

Even in such a dull place, it was home.

 

He finished the dishes, swept the floor up, then stepped outside to quickly feed the chickens and water the plants.

 

“Such a sweet boy. So sweet. Kind.” The chickens clucked amongst themselves, Frank chuckling at their quickened but discernible speech.

 

Each animal sounded different compared to another, with varying dialects, vocabulary. Their own subsets of language set them apart from anything else.

 

Indeed, Frank was odd. Odd in every sense of the word it seemed.

 

Nobody paid him mind as a child, speaking to animals as though they could talk back.

 

Only when he grew up, from the time he was around twelve and now at the ripe age of seventeen, did people begin to talk.

 

_“So peculiar, do you think he is ill?”_

_“He is a strange lad, no question about that.”_

_“He surely is nothing like the rest of us.”_

_“Always reading, he never stops. All he talks to are the bloody cattle and that poor father he has.”_

 

Frank had heard it all before, and over the years it began to affect him less. He knew was the frequent subject of gossip, just by existing it seemed.

 

Schooling was a nightmare, one he would prefer to forget. Afterward, he was virtually shut out by the community. That, he could deal with. 

 

Attempts to find work were to no avail, nobody thinking him capable enough to handle other people properly. Not to mention he was viewed as pretentious, for being well spoken and read. People believed he looked down upon them, his mannerisms labeled condescending.

 

 _Ridiculous_ , Frank always thought to himself.

 

As he did any day he found himself lacking in entertainment with chores or the weekly shopping, Frank began his trek toward the edge of town- where the road became dirt and grass rolled upwards into soft hills, dotted with shady trees, shrubs, and flowers of all hues. A place well away from people, where he could settle in and read. 

 

But his travels were not always smooth, what with folks every so often attempting to flag him down for a dull conversation, often forcibly friendly more than anything else. To avoid this, Frank stuck his nose back down in his latest read, one he’d been through countless times but could never get enough of.

 

Two lovers in Verona, separated by their feuding families but enveloped in a love that bound them together until death.

 

Though romance was a favourite genre, Frank never prioritized finding it himself. He yearned for adventure, far beyond this little town and all things familiar.

 

He wanted to see the world’s oceans, climb the tallest mountain peaks, seek out great plains and deserts, explore vast forests and meet all the creatures residing within them. 

 

Any place would be better than here.

 

“Good morning, Frank!” A voice rang out, breaking the normal mutter from the crowds he passed through on his walk into the marketplace.

 

 _Oh, god…_ Frank thought, hardly needing to glance up as Bertram McCracken made his way toward him.

 

Athletically built, mostly due to him being an avid hunter. Heir to his family’s estate. Cocky, conceited, even a bit of a narcissist.

 

Everything Frank could _never_ want in someone. Yet, he persisted.

 

“Good morning, Bertram.” Frank replied simply, not removing his eyes from the text in front of his face.

 

“Lovely book you have there.” Like he would have any idea about Shakespeare, Frank resisted a snide comment in return, glancing up instead to prompt Bert with the question he knew the other man could not answer.

 

“Have you read it?”

 

Bert was visibly swayed, lips opening to say something but failing as he cleared his throat instead. “Well…not _that_ one, but…books are a wonderful pastime.”

 

“Truly. I find I prefer them over people.” Frank dropped his eyes again, moving to skirt past the human nuisance blocking his way.

 

“Surely you couldn’t mean that! What of friends? Love? Settling down?” Bert persisted, the footsteps behind Frank telling him he was being followed.

 

“Not exactly something I put much importance in. I am fine where I am.” Frank could have the patience of a saint, but with Bert it was definitely limited, and it showed in his voice.

 

“Honestly, it’s time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things.”

 

The book was swiped from Frank’s hands before he could register what happened, Bert holding it well out of his reach.

 

“Like what? Do enlighten me.” Frank snipped, brows furrowed as he tried to reach for the novel despite the good bit of height Bert had on him.

 

“Like…me, perhaps?” Bert grinned, eyeing Frank like a hunter would his prize trophy.

 

“What of you? We’ve been through this before, countless times.”

 

Frank quickly hopped up to swipe the book back, tucking it under his arm and fixing Bert with a hard glare.

 

“I’m _not_ interested, and I will _never_ marry you. Accept that and kindly move forward with your life, there are plenty who will happily take you instead.”

 

The young boy huffed, not waiting for a reply as he shoved past Bert once more, even quickening his pace just to be on the safe side.

 

Bert had since turned to watch Frank go, dumbfounded by the bold demeanor that wasn’t like Frank at all. But something about it only fueled the fire within him, drove him forward in his pursuit instead. The boy had dignity, how _attractive_ it was. 

 

“Huh, didn’t think he had a rude bone in his body.” A voice came to his side, a hand resting on Bert’s shoulder, one that belonged to his close (if not only) friend and unofficial sidekick, Jeph.

 

“You heard that, didn’t you? _I’ll never marry you_ , who does he think he is?” Bert huffed, straightening his shirt out.

 

“A fool if I ever saw one. He obviously doesn’t see what all you can offer him.” Jeph mused, eyeing Bert’s face fondly.

 

“Honestly…perhaps if I show him then. Make sure he receives an invite to my family’s gala.”

 

“As you wish, my lord.”

 

Bert hummed, patting Jeph’s back quickly and turning on his heel. “I need a drink, feel free to join me.” He offered, making his way toward the nearby pub.

 

He wasn’t finished with Frank, not by any means.

 

When the man wanted something, he was going to get it, one way or another.

 

* * *

                 

"Honestly, can you imagine? Me? Married to that boorish, _brainless_ crock of..."

 

 "Easy there, son. Don't say something you will regret." The bookkeeper couldn't help chuckling to himself from his desk near where Frank was browsing.

 

He had heard more than enough about the boy's troubles with his unyielding pursuer. In fact, it was probably the most excitement he would receive throughout the week, as far as interesting conversation when days were slow in the shop.

 

 "My apologies, Raymond." Frank mumbled, smoothing a hand through his hair as he bent down to shuffle through some books on a lower shelf.

 

 "I just... if I am to find someone, I want it to happen...naturally. I want better than this, for certain. Being tied down here, settling... I don't think I could ever be happy."

 

 Raymond hummed in response, peeking up at Frank again from over the top of the thin-framed metal glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

 "Well, do keep in mind, lad. Not everything can be like it is in a good story. Set your standards too high and you will be disappointed." He warned, noting how the boy shrunk a little at his words. Harsh reality did not come easy for Frank, but it was something he needed to hear.

 

“Yes sir.” Frank mumbled again, selecting another book he had read countless times before.

 

Something about a captain hunting down a massive whale. Thrilling, Frank loved it every time he’d opened it up.

Any adventure was better than none at all, even if only fantasy.

 

* * *

 

 

Frank had an envelope shoved in his hand by a passerby once he’d left the shop, frowning as he tried to seek out who it was but they had vanished as quickly as they’d come.

 

“Crazy buggers.” He muttered to himself, glancing at the paper in hand with his name scrawled neatly on it.

 

On the other side, sealed with the stark red crest of the McCracken family.

 

“For the love of _Christ_ ,” he growled, shoving the envelope under his arm alongside his latest read, Frank made his way home.

 

He didn’t need to open the letter to know what it was.

 

If Bertram was so hell bent on having him attend this party of his, he would have to drag him kicking and screaming. Frank knew what would be anticipated there, and he wanted no part.

 

A shrill whinny startled Frank out of his furious inner monologue, hooves pounding against the cobblestones up the street toward his home.

 

 _Barrow_.

 

Frank rushed out the door into the road, dim lit by lamps standing every several feet or so. Sure enough, here came the large horse thundering up the path, eyes wide in fear and wary of all things surrounding him.

 

The boy moved to throw his hands up, shushing and cooing and grabbing for the horse’s reigns. “Shh, easy boy. Hey…” He whispered, grounding the animal and putting a firm hand on his muzzle to keep him from attempting to rear up.

 

“Where’s Papa…?” The realization slowly hit Frank; his father wasn’t with the horse.

 

Stupid, _of course_ he wasn’t. He would always be alerted to him coming with his cheery singing, no matter the time of day. It was their signal, how he knew.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Barrow normally didn’t spook this easily either, and panic immediately set in Frank, making his hands tremble slightly against the horse’s face.

 

“Where is he, boy? What happened?” He murmured, pulling Barrow’s head down a bit to look him directly in the face.

 

“Wolf. Many wolf.” The horse whispered frantically, stomping his hoof against the ground.

 

“Chase. Castle. Rose… _Beast._ ”

 

Frank stared at his dear friend for a long moment, mouth slightly agape as if to say something but his brain wouldn’t allow him to connect words.

 

Finally, he snapped from his daze, yanking slightly on the bridle to get the animal’s attention once more.

 

“You will take me to him. Now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for letting this sit almost two weeks. i didn’t anticipate for a lot of shit to go down in my life but it needed to happen, the outcome was worthwhile. 
> 
> i’ll be visiting my boyfriend in the coming days so i will be fairly distracted, but will try to work on the next chapter coming soon! hope this suffices, i’ve had most of it completed for a time and needed to figure out how to finish. 
> 
> thank you for the comments and kudos that have come thus far, they do not go unnoticed. 
> 
> -i.


End file.
